


mermaid tits

by thefudge



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Breasts, Christina Hendricks deserves more love, F/M, Fixation, Possessive Behavior, Rio is obsessed, tits, who wouldn't be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 18:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15394968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: If she was his woman – shit, he’d be buried in those mermaid tits from dusk till dawn. (mostly) Rio's POV.





	mermaid tits

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I'm thirsting for these two.  
> 2\. There's an alarming lack of attention given to Christina Hendricks' wonderful tits in this fandom, and I aim to rectify that. Because come on. You know that's aaall Rio's thinking about (and I am Rio in this scenario @____@)  
> 3\. I wanted to do Rio's POV because those lewd stares? They're goddamn ILLEGAL and I need to know what's behind them.  
> 4\. This takes place somewhere before 1x09 obviously. (ANYWAY season 2 better treat us right)

When he was ten, he walked in on his dad’s new girlfriend. She was coming out of the shower. He really didn’t mean to look, but her robe was hanging open and he got his first real peek at the juiciest pair of tits he’d ever seen. It wasn’t just their size; it was their obscene weight, their full shape, the way they seemed to hold him hostage.

The bitch had a big mouth too. She told his dad later that night how Rio was “spying” on her. His old man gave him a beating that left him with a small scar above his right eye.

He doesn’t regret it. You can’t get hung up on the past. Last time he saw his pop, he was in a wheelchair. He’d put him there.

Memories, good and bad, you just gotta roll with them.

So every time he sees his little housewife in one of those snug cashmere sweaters, it all comes back to him. And he loses himself in the moment. He’s ten again. He’s ten and his dad takes out the belt and he doesn’t give a shit because he gets to have this visual. Elizabeth, coming out of the shower, peach skin flush, gold-red hair pinned up like she’s about to –

“Excuse me, are you even listening to me?” she demands in a clipped tone. 

Ah, there it is. Her PTA mom voice.  It grates on his ears but it also makes his dick twitch. She’s so fucking high-maintenance. Classic entitled white lady who thinks she can boss him around. She’s the only one who thinks that. He shouldn’t like it. He shouldn’t let her. He should tell her to shut the fuck up, maybe rough her up until she gets the message.

But if he touches her, he’ll get in trouble. Last time he held a gun to her throat, she held his gaze with those big blue eyes and she parted those full lips like she was about to take the Glock in her mouth and – he had to take a step back. Cuz the crazy bitch wasn’t afraid – not really. The whole time he had his hand fisted in her hair and she was shaking like a flower, but when his fingers tapped against her aorta, her pulse was steady, calm.

So who the fuck knows with this broad.

“I’m all ears, sweetheart.”

He’s risking a lot letting her have this much space and she has no fucking clue.

She arches her back and folds her arms, pushing those delicious tits right in his face.

“Well, are you going to bring me more or should I settle for these leftovers?” and she nudges her head to the cash bag behind her.

 _Insatiable_ is what he thinks, scratching his chin to hide a smile. Fuck it, he’s always smiling around her.

He can’t control her, can’t teach her a lesson, can’t even touch her.

His eyes land on one of her gilt-framed family pictures on the mantelpiece. Look at that dickhead, grinning like a goddamn fool. _He_ gets to touch her. And instead he goes to look for it somewhere else?

He gets angry all over again.

“Is Mr. Salesman still in the house?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

Beth blinks, startled. “Well…yes. He’s got cancer. I can’t just kick him out.”

Rio shrugs and clicks his tongue. “Guess I have to leave you short this month. Can’t risk him dipping into my stash.”

“He _won’t_ touch the money. I’ll kill him myself,” she says icily and those blue eyes shine like a razor blade. He cuts himself every time.

Rio licks his lips.

“I keep him on a tight leash anyway,” she adds, tossing a red lock over her shoulder.

His nostrils flare. Does she do this on purpose, put pictures in his head? Why does she do it for him? Why does this Stepford bitch hit all his fucking buttons?

If she was his woman – shit, he’d be buried in those mermaid tits from dusk till dawn. He probably wouldn't even run his business. 

See, that’s the kind of dumbass thinking that’ll get him killed, or worse.

Beth raps her red nails against the Formica counter. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s nothing to me.”

And it sounds like she’s reassuring a jealous lover.

He hates playing this part, but he wants to tell her _, he can’t fuck you._ He wants to tell her, _I’ll kill him._

Instead, what comes out is, “I’ll keep in touch.”

“I’ll be expecting the rest of the cash,” Beth nods, eyes lowering meekly, but it’s all for fucking show. Inside, she’s seething, probably hatching some half-baked plot to embezzle him. She probably doesn’t know this about herself yet, but she loves to take what isn't hers. She needs to be fed, needs to be fed all the fucking time until her mouth can't take it anymore. His dick twitches again just picturing it.

He’s ten again and he dreams of a woman like that, a woman who can hold him down, a woman he can’t have.

Beth smiles sweetly. “You can see yourself out.”

 

 

She steps out of the shower, steam pooling at her feet.

She sits down in front of the mirror and slips the necklace around her throat.

It goes so well with her complexion.

She lets the robe fall down her shoulders and contemplates herself naked. A couple of months ago, she would have said she’s past her prime.

Now she knows different.

As she touches the hollow between her breasts, she can almost feel his gaze.

In her mind, he is lying on the bed, watching her with hooded, hungry eyes.

 

 

In his mind, she is sitting there, naked, resplendent, all his.

 

 


End file.
